It was the fullest, richest part of the summer in New England.  The
afternoon shadows were lengthening, the blackberries were deep purple
and plump on the cane, and the soft breezes sifted the yellow powder from
the fuzzy yellow goldenrod blossoms.  The bees were starting to show some
wear and tear, and the occasional "plonk!" of a shiny new acorn could be
heard beneath the oaks.  It was the end of August, and the hoomins packed
up their suitcases, and left the house for their annual vacation.  The
dog, the Noble Allis Chompers was dropped off to spend the time with
local family.  Arrangements were made with the nice girl down the street
to check in on Ping and Puma, and France, the Fricken' Pygmy Hedgehog
every day.  The hoomins would be gone for ten days.  But while they were
gone, someone was coming over for an extended stay in the country...the
Otters.
 
When we left off..."Perhaps, Brother,you will pass that bag through the
screen, and I will then assist you inside?"
 
"Delightful!,"cried the First otter.  Ping looked at Puma, and Puma
looked at Ping.  Ping raised his shoulders silently in a shrug, as if
to say "I don't get it either." Puma sighed, quietly.  And then, the
white plastic bag was thrust through the screen, dangling from the hand
of the First otter....It swung, gently.
 
Ping cleared his throat and asked politely "Um, Dudes, what's in the
bag?"
 
Both otters began to chuckle,(the First with some effort, as he was now
climbing into the house through the loosened window screen.  The bag was
unceremoniously dumped on the floor to make this possible.) The Second
put both paws on his hips and said with genuine pleasure "Provisions,
little cousins, provisions for our country visit while your hoomins are
gone!"
 
Ping called out "Dude!  Do you have any wasabi peas?  Roast chicken
bones?  Maybe a *ham* wrapper in there?" The otters laughed while Puma
envisioned the things that she knew otters ate.  It was not a pretty
picture.  She cleared her throat carefully and said "Will you please
let us out, and THEN tell us what you brought?"
 
"Certainly, certainly!,"called out the First otter, as he waddled over
to the cage.  "We'll have you out momentarily." And he did.  Ahhhh...
out of the cage.  Ping is He and Puma zipped out of the little door that
the otter had lifted.  They ran, zigged, zagged, leapt, war danced, and
rolled on the floor in pure joy.  Finally still, but panting a bit from
his exertions Ping said "As soon as I find some pliers, that cage and I
are going to have a little talk, Dude!"
 
While Ping and the otters chatted about which bars should be bent and how
far, Puma went into stealth mode and snuck over to the white plastic bag
on the floor by the front windows.  She nosed the plastic aside, and
slipped into the bag.  She sniffed...sniffed...sniffed...but recognized
none of the scents, aside from that of the bag itself.  "At least I don't
smell *fish*," she thought.  Puma did not like fish.  Or wasabi peas.
Or roast chicken bones.  Or (shudder)dripping ham wrappers.  She sniffed
again, and this time she thought she detected that stuff Ping was so nuts
about, chocolate.  Puma didn't like that, either.  Ping liked to tease
her that she hated almost as many things as *France* did.
 
Hmm.  While Ping and the otters continued to scheme in the background
and a search was begun for the pliers, Puma started turning over the
little packages inside the bag and reading the words printed on them.
Hmmmm.  'Graham Crackers.' "Sounds yucky," she thought.  Here was
another one...'Hershey Bars.' Bars?  The little package that smelled
like chocolate didn't seem nearly heavy enough to contain metal bars.
Puma read the lettering on a soft, mushy bag that smelled sweet.
'Marshmallows.  'That was the best smelling thing yet.  Then, there
were several little metal tins...'Sardines' and 'Smoked Oysters Packed
in Oil.'
 
None of *those* sounded good, at all.  No, not at all.
 
End Part Two
Alexandra in MA
[Posted in FML issue 5363]